


Scarlet and Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Johnlock, Gen, Hogwarts, John's a muggleborn, Kidlock, M/M, Magic, Multi, Potterlock, Sherlock's a pureblood, what could go wrong?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Army cadet John Watson has just received an incredibly odd letter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a potterlock fic, so bear with me! updates will be weekly/bi-weekly, I have more than this first chapter written already. Let's go to Hogwarts!

 

_ Scarlet and Blue _

 

“John! There's a letter here for you darling!”

John Hamish Watson awoke with a start. He was eleven years old, blond, and small for his age. His mother's voice shouting at him to get out of bed was nothing out of the ordinary, a regular occurrence, but him receiving mail was not. The young boy threw the duvet off in a mad dash to get downstairs. In the kitchen, along with a bowl of cereal and some orange juice, he noted, was a peculiar looking letter. The envelope was thick, heavy paper, and the ink was emerald green. It read “Mr John Watson, The Smallest Bedroom, 22 Chiswick Mall, Chiswick, London”

_How odd,_ he thought,  _what a strange way to address a letter..._ the postmarks were bizarre too. He'd never heard of a place called Hogsmeade before... _must be some tiny village_ he assumed. He turned the letter over, and something truly weird met his eyes. A red wax seal bearing a coat of arms, like you'd see in period dramas...he shook his head and opened the letter, to be met with more green ink. 

He read aloud, the words baffling him the more he did so.

“Dear Mr Watson, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all books and equipment necessary. Term begins 1st September. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.”

He looked up from the letter, flabbergasted. His mother frowned.

“Is someone winding you up, Johnny? That's all a bit ridiculous...”

“It...-it seems too detailed to be a joke...no one would go to this much effort...”

“It's ridiculous, here let me see that.”

She snatched the envelope and pulled out the supply list.

“Uniform: First year students will require: 1. Three sets of plain work robes (black), 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar), 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings).”

“I don't think it's a trick, mum...”

“Are you being bullied again, John? I know you're into all this fantasy stuff, maybe someone's being intentionally cruel?” she asked gently, as he took the supply list.

“Course books: All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory by Adalbent Waffling, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.”

Mrs Watson shook her head.

“It's so far-fetched honey...I'm sorry, John, someone's being horribly mean...”

John continued reading.

“Other equipment: One wand, one cauldron (standard size 2, pewter), one set of glass crustal phials, one telescope, one set of brass scales. Students may also bring and owl _or_ a cat _or_ a toad. Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks.”

He puts all three pages down on the table, scanning over them again.

“I'm really confused, Mum...why would someone go to this much bother just to mess with me?”

Mrs Watson rubbed her young son's back soothingly, eyeing the clock.

“I don't know, sweetheart. They've clearly a wild imagination, and way too much free time. Speaking of time, you're off to cadets in an hour, so eat up and go get your uniform on.”

John frowned as he ate his breakfast, poking at the dismally soggy cornflakes with his spoon. His mother gathered the letters and put them on top of the fridge, tidying up. He gave up on the mushy cereal (too much milk, she always put on too much milk, something about fattening him up) and opted for gulping down his orange juice instead, before taking off upstairs and locking himself in the bathroom. He frowned deeply at his reflection in the mirror, shaking his head and stripping off his pyjamas, stepping into the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he exited the bathroom, shivering as the coldness of the hallway met his damp skin, raising goosebumps. He didn't linger too long in the hall, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

His curtains were still drawn, keeping at least some warmth in the room. He opened his wardrobe, and took out his uniform. Miniature army fatigues and a beret, as was standard. He dried himself off, and dressed slowly, almost ritually. He couldn't wait for the day when he would enlist in the army for real. He loved the structure and discipline, the sense of belonging to something much bigger that it gave him. He was a brave and fiercely loyal boy, the kind of child who always put others before himself. When his father had been killed on duty, that was when he decided that an army career was for him. Protecting others, that was how his dad died. So John felt he had to carry on doing what his father had done before him.

He slipped on his beret, and sat down on his bed to lace up his boots. He was the youngest cadet, a special dispensation made for him due to his father. He'd been a cadet for about a year now. He pushed all thoughts of the letter to the back of his mind and focused on his schedule for the day ahead. Cadets from ten until one. Swimming practice from three until five. Guitar lesson from seven until nine. One of his least hectic summer days. Mother always tried to keep him busy, to stop him from being a lazy layabout like Harry. Ah Harry. Harriet Jennifer Watson. Apparently she didn't come home last night. Again. Typical. She was eighteen and their mother couldn't control her. She drank, she smoked, she slept around a lot. John didn't see her much, so he didn't particularly care. She was completely against the path he was choosing to go down.

“Johnny!” she said, “John, please don't! You'll get yourself killed! Don't be like dad!”

But he wanted to be like dad. He wasn't rebellious like her, or quiet and calm like mother. He was just like his father, stubborn with a taste for danger. Loyal. Caring. Someone you'd want as your friend. John surveyed his appearance in the full length mirror, before nodding and turning on his heel, marching out of his room to begin his day.

 

xxx

 

John pushed open the front door of his house, confused as to why it was unlocked.

“Mum? Harry? Hello?”

“Oh, John, it's about time you were home!” His mother said, poking her head out of the living room.

“Mum? I thought you were shopping with Jill today?”

“Had to cancel last minute, what kept you so long?”

“Went to McDonalds with Mike.”

“Come into the living room dear, there's someone here to see you.”

John furrowed his brow, taking off his beret. No one ever visited  _him..._

He went into the living room, to see a strange man on their sofa. He was wearing an odd deep blue cloak-y thing...and a bizarre pointy hat.

“Mum? Who's this?”

The small man jumped to his feet, reaching a hand out to John.

“Ah Mr Watson, my name is Ulfric Moone, and I'm here about a letter you received this morning.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“What about it? It's just someone being mean again...”

“Oh no no no, on the contrary! It's nothing of the sort, it's 100% genuine! You're a wizard!”

John's eyed widened at the little man's words.

“R...-really? So...all that stuff...that's...-that's all real?...Prove it.”

Ulfric sighed, and pulled a stick out of his pocket. _Wand_ John's mind told him.

“Under the circumstances, I am allowed to perform a basic charm to prove myself real. So, here we go.”

He pointed his wand at the teacup in front of him.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” he said simply, with a swish of his wand and a flick of his wrist.

The teacup immediately levitates mid air. John's mouth fell open.

“Magic...-magic is real and...goodness...I....and I'm...I'm...”

“A wizard, yes!” Ulfric clapped his hands together, his beady eyes shining.

Mrs Watson was grinning, her eyes gleaming with pride.

“This Hogwarts then...it's a magic school?”

“It is indeed. There you will learn how to channel and use your magical abilities, learn about the magical world, the creatures that inhabit it, spells, potions, flying, apparition, so much to learn! Let me tell you about Hogwarts, what I've told your mother already, information you'll want you see: It's a boarding school, that's the first big thing. Students, upon arrival, are sorted into four houses, and they are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, each named for the four founders of the school over one thousand years ago! Term begins on the first of September, and to get to the school you must take the Hogwarts Express for platform nine and three quarters from King's Cross Station. I've been assigned to you, so it's my job to ensure you get your supplies, change your muggle money into wizard currency, and show you how to get onto the platform on the day. Questions?”

“Muggle?”

“Non-magic people.”

John nodded contemplating everything he'd been told.

“So...my school supplies...where exactly do we go? Never head of anywhere selling dragonhide before...”

“We go, my lad, to Diagon Alley.”

John nods again, licking his lips.

“Okay...I think...well...-I believe you.”

“Oh excellent! I can tell you're going to be a fine young wizard, John Watson!”

John felt utterly overwhelmed by everything he'd been told.

“Well I shall leave you to your day. Oh, one more thing, you mustn't tell anyone about the magical world. It's a secret, you understand? Now, I'll be back next Tuesday to take you to Diagon Alley, term starts in two week after all! While we're there we'll purchase your school supplies and your train ticket, yes? Yes, good. Goodbye then!”

He vanished with a pop. John's eyes widened more. His mother beamed at him, and wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh my little wizard! I'm so proud of you! Now you never have to go back to that horrible school, you can have a fresh start!”

“Magic! Magic, Mum! And boarding school...wait, aren't boarding schools expensive?”

“He said Hogwarts isn't privately owned, so it's completely free!”

John grinned, finally showing his excitement.

“I'll write to you every week! And to Harry! Oh my god, I'm a wizard!”

 

For the rest of the day, those words were all her could think about.

_You're a wizard!_ It kept repeating in his head, over and over. At swim practice he almost blurted it out to his coach, and again at his guitar lesson. When he was settling down for bed, he realised something.

“Mum?” he said, as she swept around picking clothes off his floor.

“Yes my love?”

“Going away to school...that means I'll have to quit cadets, doesn't it?” he frowns.

His mother's face falls.

“Oh love...I'd forgotten about that...I'm afraid so...or...maybe...-maybe if you explain to Major Sholto that you're going away to boarding school maybe they'll let you come only during the holidays?”

He bites his lip.

“I don't know...Major Sholto is really insistent and strict with us being there every week...and I haven't missed a session yet...I'm not sure if...”

His mother pulled the duvet around him.

“Why don't I go with you and talk to him? I'm sure I can sort this out for you somehow. Go to sleep, little love,” she kisses his forehead.

“Thanks mum,” he yawned, “Goodnight...”

“Goodnight, John. Sleep well.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is taken to Diagon Alley via side-along apparation, and comes across a boy with an unsettling gaze in the robe shop.

Chapter Two

 

John stood with his mother in the major's office.

“Boarding school, eh? Well...usually I'd have you hand in your uniform if you weren't going to be here every week...but...your father was...and you're one of the best young...-no matter, as long as you're here during the school holidays. Off you go, young man.”

John grinned as they left. He was certain Major Sholto would kick him out, absolutely sure of it. But it seemed having his mother there to explain the situation was all he needed. It was Thursday, eleven days until he would get on the Hogwarts Express. Ulfric had been unable to come on Tuesday, something to do with work at the “Ministry of Magic”...(whatever that was)...and he said he'd be here around midday today to collect him and take him for his supply shopping. Sure enough, he appeared in their kitchen, giving both John and his mother a fright.

“Oh, pardon me, sorry about that...are you ready to go?”

“How do you do that?” John asked, wide-eyed.

“You'll learn at Hogwarts...not for a while though, you're still much to young to apparate on your own. You need to pass a test too.”

John nodded. It seemed he'd be doing a lot of nodding, just accepting whatever he was told in regards to the wizarding world.

“I'm taking you both on a side-along apparition today. Fair-warning, most people vomit the first time.”

He held out his arms.

“Each of you take an arm, and we'll be off.”

They gingerly took an arm each, there was a sudden swirling sensation, like their bodies were being compressed and spun to fit through a very small hole. And then they were on a floor. A rather dirty floor. A rather dirty pub floor.

“Tom! Two butterbeers, first-time apparators over here!” Ulfric called out, chuckling.

John got to his feet shakily.

“Careful now,” Ulfric said, “Get your landlegs back...there we go, sit down here...”

He was pushed into a chair, as was his mother, and a mug of foamy golden liquid was set in front of them both.

“Drink, it'll settle your stomachs...first time apparition is always a wild ride,” said the man Ulfric called Tom.

John lifted the mug, a sugary sweet aroma hitting him. He brought it to his lips, sipping at it carefully. I was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Sweet, creamy, rich, and he instantly felt better having had it. Mrs Watson's reaction was much the same.

“There we are,” Ulfric beamed, “All better now. Tom! Currency exchange, if you will. How much will you be changing, Mrs Watson?”

“Er,” she wiped away her foamy moustache, “Five hundred pounds...”

“Certainly! Tom! One hundred Galleons up front!”

Tom reappeared with a large money pouch, and he and Mrs Watson exchanged cash.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Right, if everyone's feeling good again, it's time to be off!”

“Er..” John speaks up,” Ulfric...what is this place exactly?”

“This, young Watson, if The Leaky Cauldron...and in here...” He leads them into a small, brick-walled room, “Is how we get to Diagon Alley.”

He winked, pulling out his wand and tapping several of the bricks in what seemed to be a specific order. The wall began to melt away, revealing to them a busy, bustling street, full of people in odd clothing. The street was long and narrow, with shop fronts either side offering their wares for sale. John stared around in awe, his mother pulling him close to keep him from getting caught up in the throng of people. They followed Ulfric down the street, glancing at and reading the shop fronts they passed. Flourish and Blotts, The Magical Menagerie, Ollivanders...they stopped outside what seemed to be a clothes shop called “Madame Malkin's”.

“In here is where you get your uniform. In you go, you'll be tailor fitted.”

John and his mother entered the shop, staring around at all the strange clothing on offer. An old woman came forward from behind the counter.

“Hogwarts is it?”

John nodded.

“Never seen you before, boy. First year robes?”

She looked him up and down, flicking her wand. A tape measure emerged from the tip and began to measure him. She hums and nods.

“Binky!”

A strange creature rushes forward. John gasps at the sight of it. Madame Malkins straightens up.

“Ah, muggleborn yes?”

John nods.

“Binky here is a house elf. Frightfully helpful, aren't you little one?”

The house elf speaks in a high-pitched voice.

“Yes ma'am. What does ma'am need?”

“A plain Hogwarts uniform, extra small.”

Binky nods eagerly, and runs off. Moments later she returns with a bundle of clothes.

“Now...er...what's your name love?”

“John...John Watson.”

“Alright, John Watson, if you could step into the changing room and pop on the trousers and shirt for me.”

“Okay”

A moment later, he finds himself standing on a raised platform, as the seamstress fits the rest of his clothes to him. She waves her wand, and a tie fastens itself around his neck.

“Arms out, please.”

As he does this, there's suddenly a grey jumper on him. His mother watches on in awe. Madame Malkin puts his arms into what he assumes is one of the plain work robes, and flicks her wand again, the black fabric adjusting itself to fit around him perfectly.

“Um...what do I do at school? I mean...I'm growing pretty quickly...”

“Don't worry dear, Hogwarts has a seamstress who'll adjust your uniform for you as you grow.”

“Oh, okay. Handy that,” he smiles.

She removes the robe from him, and mutters an incantation, two more robes of the same size appearing. She puts one back on him and fastens a winter cloak around his shoulders.

“There we are. Smart looking young man.”

She pushes him in front of a full-length mirror, as the shop door opens.

“But Mycroft! We already know I'm going to be in Ravenclaw, I don't see why we can't just purchase the Ravenclaw robes now!”

“Because, brother-mine, Hogwarts stands upon tradition whether you like it or not, and you will follow the rules like everybody else.”

“Goodness,” Madame Malkin mutters, “The Holmes'. Finally little Sherlock's turn...”

She rushes forward.

“Gentlemen, robe fitting for the younger, yes?”

The curly-haired boy rolled his eyes.

“Obviously.”

“Sherlock!” Mycroft scolded, “Behave!”

John tries not to listen in, and surveys his appearance in the mirror.

“I don't see why father couldn't take me to do this. He took you when you got your robes for the first time!”

“He wasn't the Minister for Magic back then when I was your age, Sherlock.”

“He's still not,” the boy grumbled, “Everyone knows you run the bloody country. Just not officially.”

“Yes, well...it wouldn't do to have an eighteen year old Minister for Magic, now would it?”

Sherlock makes a dismissive sound.

“Now, Mr Watson, if you want to step back into the changing room, we can parcel up your new uniform and send you on your way.”

“Y-yes of course...I...” John fell silent, and slipped back in, hearing the curly-haired boy muttering under his breath.

“Muggleborn, deceased father, military, loyal, brave...hm...Gryffindor...”

John shook his head slightly. What a weird kid...

He changed back into his street clothes, walking out with the uniform tucked under one arm. The seamstress was working at the dark-haired boy.

“Binky!” she called out, “Label and package up John's uniform, would you?”

The little house elf appeared again, with several name tags in her tiny hands that read “John Watson” and with a snap of her fingers, affixed them to the uniform. Another snap, and it was parcelled up in brown paper, tied with a string.

“There you go sir!” she said in her squeaky voice.

“Thank you...”he turned, accidentally catching the gaze of the other boy. The pale blue eyes bored into his own darker ones, cold and steely. John quickly looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

“Mum...money?”

“Oh yes, of course.”

Madame Malkin spoke.

“Fifteen Galleons is your total, Mrs Watson, just give it to Binky, she'll take care of it.”

John's mum counted out the gold coins.

“Thank you kindly, ma'am!” Binky said brightly, “Thank you for shopping with us today!”

John's mother took the package, and they left the shop. John could still feel the curly-haired boy's eyes on him as he left, and he shuddered a little, glad to be out of the shop.

“Right,” Ulfric said joyously, “Books now, I think!”

 

* * *

 

An hour later they all sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour eating massive sundaes.

“What's left on the list?” John's mother inquired.

He dug it out of his pocket, everything but one item crossed off.

“A wand, that's the last thing.”

Ulfric's face lit up.

“Ooooh we've really kept the best 'til last, the wand's always exciting!”

“What happens?”

“Well...you don't exactly choose the wand you want yourself...quite the opposite really...you see, the wand chooses the wizard...exactly why is unknown...ah, I see we've all finished our ice creams, good good, off we go, off to Ollivander's!”

They paid for their ice creams and set off up the street again. They stopped outside a very old shop front that read “Ollivander's, makers of fine wands since 382BC.”

“ _382BC?”_ John thought in astonishment, “ _Wow...”_

The three entered the shop that was seemingly empty.

“Yoohoo!” Ulfric called out, “Mr Ollivander!”

An elderly man peeked out from the back.

“Ah Mr Moone...birch, thirteen inches, phoenix tail feather, lightly springy...good to see you again...and who have we here?”

“This is John Watson, and his mother of course...here for his first wand...”

“Ah, Watson eh? Hold out your wand arm for me please...”

“My...-my wand arm?”

“The dominant hand...”

Ollivander shuffled forward as John stuck out his right arm, and he measured it just by looking.

“Hm...you need a twelve inch wand, yes...I'll be just a moment...” he said airily.

True to his word, he was back just moments later with several long boxes and set them on the counter, taking the lids off.

“Come now, Mr Watson, don't be shy...”

John stepped forward, and Ollivander held out a wand to him. He took it, unsure of what to do with it.

“Give it a wave!”

He blinked several times, and waved the wand, promptly setting the counter ablaze. Ollivander extinguished the flames immediately.

“Perhaps not that one...”

John shook his head, startled.

“Maybe this one...” he held out a dark wood wand with red detailing.

As soon as John's fingers touched it, a peculiar warmth spread up his fingers, and filled his whole being with it's presence. He waved the wand, and a shower of red sparks erupted from the tip.

“Ah...you've been chosen, Mr Watson...mahogany, twelve inches, dragon heartstring...sturdy and strong...”

John turned and beamed at his mother, who smiled proudly.

“Thank you,” John whispered, handing the wand back for it to be boxed.

His mother counted out ten galleons.

“Nice seeing you, Moone, and nice meeting you, young Watson. I do hope to see you in here again in the future, perhaps with your own children, hm?”

 

* * *

 

Outside the shop, Ulfric clapped his hands together.

“Back to Chiswick, yes? Hold on tight!”

 

TBC

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's not happy about John leaving, and John finally meets that odd boy...

Chapter Three

 

“What do you mean you're not coming back to school?”

John was walking home from cadets with his friend Mike Stamford.

“You can't just...-just quit school!”

“If you'd let me finish,” John laughed, “I'm not going back to school...because I'm going to a new school.”

Mike scrunched up his face.

“But why? I know it's not the greatest school in the world but...but...-why!?”

“I'm going to a better school...one far away from here...”

“What!? You're moving away too!? What about your mum's shops? What about Harry!?”

“They're not going anywhere, Mike...it's a boarding school,” he coughed.

“Oh what? Your mum's sending you to a boarding school? Why, does she hate you that much?”

“Oh ha-ha,” John retorted sarcastically, “No doofus, I'm going because I want to go.”

“But you'll be back right? In the holidays? You're not leaving forever, are you? Please say you're not leaving forever!”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, of course I'll be back...why wouldn't I be?”

Mike scratched the back of his head.

“I don't know...you might...-you might find a new best friend and...like...go on an adventure or something and leave me forever!”

The boys stopped outside John's house.

“Don't worry, mate, I'm coming back.”

“First day's not gonna be the same without you...”

“Ditto.”

“You go tomorrow you said?”

John nodded, a quiet hum of confirmation.

“Well I...-I'll miss you, I'm not gonna lie.”

“Same.”

Stamford opened his arms, and John hugged him tightly.

“Good luck, mate...don't have too much fun at boarding school...”

“Mm...I'll try not to...”

“Bye John.”

“Goodbye Mike.”

 

* * *

 

John stared down at his packed trunk, adorned with “J.H.W.” in gold lettering. He had everything he'd need. His uniform, pyjamas, weekend clothes, books, equipment, parchment, quill and ink, and most importantly, in his trouser pocket, his wand. He patted the pocket to make sure it was still there safe and sound.

It was 10.30AM, and Ulfric would be there any minute to take John and his mother to King's Cross station via side-along apparation. He had his train ticket safely in an envelope in his pocket. Pulling his trunk downstairs with a thunk-thunk-thunk, he left it in the hallway, and went into the kitchen, where his sister and mother were waiting. Mrs Watson smiled widely when she saw her son.

“Got everything, John? Clean underwear, toothbrush?”

John's cheeks flushed at his mother's words, and Harry made a disgusted noise.

“Alright freak? Have fun at freak school, miss you not.”

“Harry! You do not talk to your little brother like that! We're all very proud of John!”

“You, there's no 'we' about it, I couldn't care less.”

There was a pop behind John.

“Ah, Mr Watson! Jolly good. Shall we go?”

“Hullo Ulfric,” John said light-heartedly, despite his sister's insults, “I'm ready. Mum?”

“Harry, I'm warning you now, don't burn the house down while I'm gone.”

Harry rolled her eyes.

“Yea yeah, whatever, just leave already.”

John gripped his trunk tightly and held onto Ulfric's arm, as did his mother, and soon they were off. They arrived in an empty room in King's Cross, John assumed specifically for wizards who were apparating in.

“Come along, Watsons, let's get John to the platform!”

They loaded John's belongings onto a trolley, including his new Tawny owl, Donovan. Mother had bought her in Diagon Alley as a surprise so he could mail letters home when they found out that was the preferred postal method in the wizarding world. The three approached platforms nine and ten, and much to his surprise, John spotted the boy from the robe shop standing there, looking very disgruntled indeed. As they got closer, John couldn't help but hear him complaining to the older woman standing next to him.

“I don't understand why, Mrs Hudson, I need to get the train, when I could fly there on my broomstick in half the time!”

“Oh hush, Sherlock, you have to take the train because your father insisted upon it.”

John read the initials on his trunk, “W.S.S.H.” and he had what looked like an eagle owl in a huge cage. Suddenly, someone ran at the barrier between nine and ten. John gasped, awaiting the inevitable crash, looking away. Much to his confusion, there wasn't one. He frowned and looking back. The person had completely disappeared.

“Goodbye, Mrs Hudson. Tell Mycroft that he's fat and I hate him a lot, would you?” they boy sneered as he walked towards the barrier.

“I'll do no such thing, and I'll certainly be telling your mother that you said that, young man!”

Sherlock smirked, and walked through the barrier. John couldn't believe his eyes.

“Right then, Mrs Watson, John...time to say your goodbyes to one another, muggles can't pass through the barrier I'm afraid...”

John's mother pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly.

“Promise to write every week, okay my darling boy?”

“Yeah mum, I will. I love you.”

“I love you, baby. I'll miss you an awful lot...now...off you go...magic awaits...”

She let go of him and he turned to face the barrier. Ulfric squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Shall we?”

“Oh yes,” John grinned.

They ran at the barrier and passed right through it. It was an odd sensation, running at something that seemed so solid for it to end up only being an illusion. He was met with a glorious sight on the other side. A gleaming scarlet steam engine with the words “Hogwarts Express” emblazoned on the side. The platform was alive with activity, parents crying and saying goodbye, children laughing and shouting to their friends.

“Now,” Ulfric began, barely audible over the din, “You take your trunk into a compartment with you and store it in the overhead luggage rack. Leave everything else here, it'll all be loaded on for you, okay? This is where we part ways I'm afraid, old chap.”

“Thank you,” John said, turning, “Honestly thank you s-”

Ulfric was gone. John stood there awkwardly for a moment, feeling utterly unsure and lost. He scratched his head, and got onto the train, struggling with his heavy trunk. He was unable to find an empty compartment, so he settled for one that had only one other person in it. That one person was the boy he kept encountering. John sighed, and pulled open the compartment door, only to be met with a sharp “Shut up.”

John frowned.

“I didn't say anything...”

“No, but you were thinking, it's annoying.”

The boy was lying completely across one side of the compartment with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“Sorry but...all the other compartments are full...do you mind...?”

“Ugh...I suppose...”

John pulled the door shut behind him, and tried to lift his trunk onto the overhead. The boy watched him from the corner of his eye, and sighed again. He pulled out his wand and waved it lazily, muttering “Wingardium leviosa,” and levitating the trunk up onto the rack. John smiled in thanks and sat down, before frowning again.

“I thought we weren't allowed to use magic outside of school...”

“We're technically not students yet, so...”

“Oh.”

Sherlock sat bolt upright suddenly, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin on top of his hands.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John looked at him puzzled.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your father, which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“A-...Afghanistan...how did you...”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, and John decided not to press the matter.

“My name's John Watson, by the way.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Right...-er, how?”

“You were in the robe shop and your name was used on more than one occasion. You were addressed as both John, and Mr Watson. I heard, I retained.”

“Right. Okay. And you are?”

“Deduce it.”

The blond boy furrowed his brow.

“I...I'd say your name is...Sherlock Holmes...but...your trunk...”

“No, that's right.”

“But...the trunk...”

“Not important.”

“Oh right...that's fine.”

John twiddled his thumbs a bit.

“So...”

“Please don't attempt to engage me in small talk, John, I find it utterly dull and fatuous.”

“Okay...”

The train began to move, and Sherlock lay down again. John settled for looking out the window. Soon, a small, mousey girl with a cat appeared at their compartment door.

“Uhm...excuse me...is it okay if Toby and I sit with you two? I was in another compartment and...one of the boys was being really creepy...”

John nodded.

“Sure, come right in. My name's John, John Watson.”

She sat down and the cat lounged on her lap.

“Hi John, John Watson. I'm Molly, Molly Hooper.”

John half-expected Sherlock to introduce himself, but he seemed to be entranced by the overhead luggage rack.

“Sherlock?”

He didn't respond.

“He's Sherlock Holmes, by the way.”

Molly nodded.

“Yeah, I know, my father works for his...”

John tilted his head curiously.

“His father's the Minister for Magic, you see,” Molly explained, but still that offered no clarity to the muggleborn.

“He oversees...everything like...he's...-he's like the muggle..what is it...prime minister?”

“Oh! Oh, I get it now! So...are both your parents wizards?”

She nods.

“And yours aren't I take it?”

“No, I'm...ah what was it again...muggle born, I think that's it...”

“Oh, right...what house do you hope to be in?”

“Don't know yet, a good one I hope.”

Molly giggles.

“They're all good in their own ways...my dad was in Ravenclaw, and my mum was in Slytherin...I hope I'm in Gryffindor!”

“I'm going to be in Ravenclaw,” Sherlock said suddenly.

“Oh look, it lives.”

He sits up, a confused expression on his face.

“Where did you come from? There was only John here a minute ago.”

“Yeah, fifteen minutes ago, where have you been?” John asked.

“Mm, people talking, none of them me, I must have filtered.”

“Do that a lot?”

“I have to channel out witless babble. I've got my nanny, Mrs Hudson, on semi-permanent mute.”

John shook his head.

“Whatever that means. Why do you think you'll be in Ravenclaw?”

“I don't think, I know.”

“How?” Molly piped up, “You can't possibly know what the sorting hat will make of you...”

“Doesn't mean you can't persuade it. With my superior intellect I'm bound to be in Ravenclaw. It's obvious. John, you'll be in Gryffindor. And _you_ will be in Hufflepuff. I'm certain.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I just am.”

“You're very sure of yourself, Sherlock,” John said, a small smile on his face.

Sherlock didn't often like people. But in that moment, he decided he liked John Watson.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated <3


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